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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25979518">The Joy Division Series</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemoneyes/pseuds/lemoneyes'>lemoneyes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>MGS Summer Games [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Metal Gear</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Liquid Ocelot - Freeform, M/M, liquid is kind of here but not really, ocelot has an identity crisis, sad snake, the boss goes to therapy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:13:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,618</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25979518</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemoneyes/pseuds/lemoneyes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of ficlets based on Joy Division songs.</p><p>1. "She's Lost Control"<br/>2. "Dead Souls"<br/>3. "Transmission"<br/>4. "Leaders of Men"<br/>5. "Wilderness"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Big Boss/Kazuhira Miller, Otacon/Solid Snake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>MGS Summer Games [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884526</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Control</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"Your mission will always come first. Always do as you're told."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Master Miller's words had stuck with Dave, even after all these years. It seemed like all his life, he was doing someone else's bidding. In Outer Heaven, in Zanzibar Land, even at Shadow Moses...</p><p>
  <em>Shadow Moses.</em>
</p><p>Dave scowled as the memories started flooding his mind. Somehow, Shadow Moses stuck with him the most. Maybe it was because it was during the incident that he discovered his long lost brother. Maybe it was because they gave him the illusion of control only to reveal that he had no choice in the matter all along. Or maybe it was the large number of genome soldiers he had killed to further his mission. Whatever the case, whenever he started thinking about it, he was filled with a sense of existential dread. The memory of his mission on Shadow Moses always left him with the same question: <em>Have I ever been in control?</em></p><p>With a frustrated groan, Dave keeled over, digging his fingers into his hair. In his mind, he could see the faces of everyone who had used him as a tool: Naomi, Colonel Campbell, Big Boss, Houseman, and probably so many more whose names he didn't know. Was there anything he <em>had</em> done on his own? Anything at <em>all</em>? His head began to spin as he desperately searched his memories for actions he had taken on his own. Dave wanted to believe that joining the military had been a choice of his own, but knowing his origins, his enlistment was planned from the start. Had he done anything? </p><p>"Snake?"</p><p>Dave's brows furrowed at the sound of a familiar soft voice. He lifted his eyes and saw Hal's concerned gaze fixed on him. He blinked, slowly lowering his hands from his head. <em>Of course</em>. Seeing his partner reminded him of the one thing he <em>had</em> done on his own. </p><p>"Are you okay?" Hal squatted down next to him and gently placed a hand on his cheek. Unlike the others who had felt "sorry" for him, the look of worry in the young brunette's eyes was genuine. </p><p>"Hal..." Dave breathed out his name as if afraid that if he spoke too loud, he would disappear. He reached out and wrapped an arm around Hal's waist, pulling him closer. In the darkness of his mind, Hal was a shining beacon of hope. Just thinking about his smiling face, his beautiful laugh, made the weight of his past feel a bit lighter. For once in his life, he had someone to share his burdens with, and Hal was more than willing to do so. Dave hugged Hal tightly against his chest, breathing in his comforting scent: <em>Coffee beans and coconut shampoo.</em> He let out a small laugh. It was strange that those were the scents that brought him comfort. <em>It's because that's</em> his <em>scent.</em></p><p>"Snake." Hal repeated his name, pulling him back to reality. "Are you okay?"</p><p>"I am now." He gently kissed Hal's forehead, then leaned his head back, resting it against the wall. </p><p>Yes, at least there was one thing Dave had control of.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Duel of Personalities</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Revolver Ocelot or Liquid Snake? Liquid Snake or Revolver Ocelot? Which one is really here?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ocelot idly spun his revolver with his left hand, watching as his soldiers carried boxes of supplies out of their warehouse and loaded them onto trucks for transport. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an unfamiliar figure creeping around in the shadows. He stopped the motion of his gun and fired a shot towards the stranger. The body hit the ground with a thud and a nearby soldier went to work cleaning up. He suspected it was a spy, and he was probably right. </p>
<p><em>Big Boss wouldn't have the guts to do that.</em> </p>
<p>"Hm?" Ocelot raised a brow at the thought. It wasn't like him to think like that about Big Boss. Then he realized whose voice it was in his mind. <em>Liquid.</em> </p>
<p>Since turning himself into Liquid Ocelot, he found that Liquid's personality seemed to pop up sometimes when he was alone with his thoughts. Maybe it was because he had nothing in particular to focus his mind on. Whatever the reason, every time it happened, Ocelot had to remind himself that he was not <em>actually</em> Liquid. <em>I gave myself his traits. He has no real control over me.</em> </p>
<p>
  <em>Are you sure about that, old man?</em>
</p>
<p>The white-haired man frowned. Perhaps he had done too good of a job with his self-hypnosis. As of late, Liquid's voice plagued him more than usual, pestering him to pursue Solid Snake and to do better than Big Boss ever could. He found that he had to constantly remind himself that he was Revolver Ocelot, and that Liquid's presence was only there because he allowed it to be. Hell, he <em>created</em> it. The Liquid that lived inside him was not the real one, it was just a byproduct of hypnosis. Sometimes it felt a little too real, though. </p>
<p><em>Make his dream a reality, and then crush him beneath your boot, old man! Spit in his ashes! I am the superior Snake.</em> </p>
<p>"Superior Snake? You were the inferior twin," Ocelot scoffed, a scowl on his face.</p>
<p>There was a sudden tugging sensation inside his mind, as if there was a hand in his skull gripping his brain. His right arm began to twitch and twist, reaching for his throat. From his mouth came a voice all too much like Liquid's. "<em>Ocelot!</em>" </p>
<p>Eyes narrowed, Ocelot struggled to control himself. He really had done too good of a job. He gripped his right wrist, forcing it back down. Beads of sweat dripped down his face as he did what he could to keep his "other half" contained. Eventually, the sensation subsided and he was back again. </p>
<p>Ocelot shook his head and walked over to his car. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a syringe, quickly jabbing it into his right arm and pushing down the plunger. As soon as the contents were completely within him, he tossed it aside and let out a sigh of relief. </p>
<p>"That should keep you down for a while, 'Liquid.'"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Love to the Beat of the Show</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Kaz and Big Boss' Mother Base romance has a rhythm of its own.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dancing. There was almost nothing Kaz loved more than dancing. What did he love more than dancing? Dancing with someone he loved. Unfortunately for him, Snake was not much of a dancer. If he wanted a dance partner, he would have to drag Snake along with him. Hell, he even had to force him to listen to music sometimes, or else he would just sit in silence. </p><p>"Snake, come on! Have a little fun!" </p><p>"I am having fun, Kaz." Despite his words, Snake was sitting at his desk with a scowl glued to his face. The room was completely silence except for the faint tapping of his pen against the paper beneath it. There wasn't even a fan running. </p><p>Kaz's bright smile turned to an irritated frown and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you sure? Because it certainly doesn't look like it." He gestured vaguely to the room around them, expecting that to explain how bland and lifeless everything felt.</p><p>Snake raised a brow, then looked around. He glanced around a few times in an attempt to connect Kaz's motion with intent, but came up with nothing. "What's your point, Kaz? This is my office," he responded dryly. </p><p>"My God, boss!" The blonde waltzed over to the dusty radio in the corner, blowing it off before extending the antenna and flipping it on. A lively pop song suddenly filled the room. Already, the atmosphere felt lighter and brighter. "See? Isn't that so much better?" Kaz looked over his shoulder and his smile immediately dropped. Snake was still just sitting there, staring at him with a blank expression. "Well, this just won't do," he mumbled.</p><p>"Kaz, I really don't understand what you're trying to do here."</p><p>"Jesus, you really are thick, huh?" With a laugh, Kaz grabbed Snake's arm and pulled him to his feet. He then starting swaying and moving his feet to the beat of the song. "Come on, boss! Dance with me!"</p><p>"Kaz, I don't--"</p><p>Without waiting for his response, Kaz put his hands on Snake's hips and started moving him. He didn't look particularly pleased, but allowed his subordinate to continue, even helping him out by moving a bit. Once he got accustomed to the rhythm, Snake found it easier to move on his own. Noticing this, Kaz grinned and removed his hands. "There you go!" His dance moves were not particularly good or refined, but he seemed to be enjoying himself well enough, which was all Kaz could ask for.</p><p>The two hopped around the room for the remainder of the song, smiling and laughing together. It was rare for Snake to have this much fun. Seeing him actually enjoy himself for a change brought a warm, genuine smile to Kaz's face. Snake could be quite the charmer if he decided to scowl a little less. </p><p>As the song finished, they bumped into each other. Kaz reached up and pulled Snake's face closer, then kissed him. Once he had his fill, he took a step back and playfully punched Snake's shoulder. </p><p>"<em>That's</em> how you have fun, boss."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Leaders of Men</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Solid Snake reflects on the corrupt leadership of FOXHOUND and the US government.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>How does leadership always end up corrupt?</em> </p><p>That was a question Dave often contemplated. He himself had been a victim of corrupt leaders more than once before, and whenever he thought about it, he wondered what went so horribly wrong with them. He believed that most of those who had turned corrupt had been pure of heart at some point, even if it had been decades ago. So what went wrong?</p><p>Money seemed the most obvious answer. Their pure hearts came to the realization that without money, they were powerless. Then as they collected more and more capital, they became jaded. Suddenly doing the right thing was no longer the top priority, and with their newfound wealth and power, the idea of controlling others became more appealing than helping those who turned to them for guidance. </p><p><em>That's probably what happened to Jim Houseman,</em> Dave thought with a frown. He wanted to believe that he would never end up like that if he were given a position of power, but to be honest, he wasn't sure. That was probably exactly what corrupt minds thought before becoming... well, corrupt. <em>But what if my awareness makes me more aware of my actions? After all, I have seen a lot of corruption in my life.</em> </p><p>Dave scoffed. <em>Everyone has seen a lot of corruption, this is America.</em> Despite his self-doubt, there was a tiny voice in the back of his head telling him that he <em>would</em> make a good leader. After all, he knew the ins and outs of getting screwed over, so that would surely help to prevent him from screwing over innocent civilians. He had always denied wanting any sort of power over others, but deep down, Dave wanted to show people that leaders <em>could</em> be just and righteous. He wanted to give future generations hope that power could be returned to the people through fair leadership. Unfortunately, he knew human greed would never allow that to happen, even if he were to be the one given power and authority. </p><p><em>The world doesn't need another Jim Houseman.</em> </p><p>Although Houseman was the first one Dave thought of, he knew there were so many more corrupt leaders in the world's history, as well as those currently in power. If it meant retaining their power, their leaders would sell out every citizen beneath them, of that Dave was sure. </p><p>As he got older, the political climate seemed to grow more and more bleak. It was not completely hopeless yet, but he felt like things were getting to that point. </p><p>Maybe corruption came naturally with power. That seemed likely, based on Dave's knowledge of people. <em>Humans want nothing more than power over others.</em> His view of humanity was cynical, but even still, he could not help but have a little hope for his fellow man. Deep, deep down, he hoped that someone with a good heart would take power and steer things back in the right direction. He hoped someone would turn down the bribes and ignore the threats, instead opting to do what they promised to help people instead of crushing the less fortunate under their expensive dress shoes. </p><p>Dave blinked. <em>I have... hope?</em> That was the first time he became aware of his own secret positive outlook. He smiled and chuckled quietly. </p><p>He had been fucked over so many times, but maybe, just maybe, one day, someone in his position would receive orders from someone with truly good intentions, and the cycle of corruption would be broken.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. I Saw the Tears as They Cried</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Boss has seen more than any ordinary soldier.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>War is hell.</em> </p><p>That was a statement that rang true no matter which decade The Boss fought in. The battlefield was no place for ordinary people. Sometimes, other soldiers could not even handle it. It took a special person to see the blood, exposed bones, and spilling guts of their comrades and continue the fight. It took a special person to dig a knife into a gunshot wound and rip the bullet out, then continue the fight. It took a special person to continue the fight. </p><p>"What did you see there?"</p><p>The Boss glanced towards the therapist sitting next to her from her place on the couch. His eyes were glued to the clipboard in front of him, his pen hovering over the paper as he waited for her to speak. "I saw..." Blood. Organs. Bones. Punctured eyeballs. The mutilated corpses of teenage boys, probably fresh out of high school, who thought that dying for their country's warped idea of freedom was the only path available to them. They could have gone to college, met a girl, built a family, grown old--</p><p>"Ma'am?" </p><p>"Oh, um... Which battle are you asking about?" <em>It doesn't matter, they're all the same.</em> </p><p>The therapist wrote something down, then briefly glanced up at her. "Whichever one is most prominent in your mind." </p><p>"That would be Normandy." D-Day haunted her, even to this day. "I gave birth on the battlefield, and my child was taken from me. But also..." She trailed off as images of corpses returned to the forefront of her mind. </p><p>As her stomach had been cut open, all she could do to subdue the pain was look at her surroundings. Unfortunately for her, those surroundings were the bodies of her fellow soldiers. Some looked almost like they were asleep, others were mutilated beyond recognition due to gunfire from the Mauser revolver cannons. The sound of gunfire seemed to encompass her, making it difficult to pinpoint where it was coming from. <em>It's coming from everywhere.</em> She watched as a young man's leg was blown clean off by a tank round, feeling a sense of dread as she watched him fall to the ground and begin to desperately crawl towards a gun. He made it maybe a foot before falling still. </p><p>
  <em>Snap.</em>
</p><p>The Boss blinked, seeing the therapist's hand in front of her face. She looked towards him, slightly irritated. "I've seen more blood and death, experienced more pain and suffering, than you can even begin to understand," she snapped. Realizing what she had done, she quickly regained her composure and turned her eyes back to the ceiling. "I've seen more death in my life than... anyone, probably." </p><p>"And how has it affected you?"</p><p>The blonde closed her eyes. She could vividly remember the faces of the mothers she'd met, the poor women whose sons had dropped like flies all around her. She remembered the tears they cried, their accusations, the blame they put on her, the blame they put on themselves... </p><p>"It's affected me more than even I know."</p>
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